Prowler Jr
by Bomani Akila Neteru
Summary: Prowl would never admit it to Jazz, but he actually loves kittens. So when Jazz brings home a kitten that matches Prowl's coloring; the tactician must hide how he really feels, as pets are not allowed on base. Prowl/Jazz


There was little Jazz enjoyed more than driving around human cities and drinking in the foreign culture of the planet. It wasn't uncommon to _not_ to see him around base, as he would take full advantage of the ground bridge, and explore to his spark's content. Prowl or Optimus would oftentimes have to call him back for a mission or meeting, as the free spirited Autobot was nowhere to be found on the island. But today, he had not been called; a fact he was grateful for. It left Jazz free to explore his newest fascination. A piece of human culture that had him comparing it to Cybertronian, his own, for hours.

Pets.

He watched humans walk their dogs down the streets- his number one target being Sam with his dog, Mojo- or show off their cats at the park. The best spot, however, was the pet store. Oh, he could sit there for hours, watching the humans go crazy over the small, adorable animals. It made Jazz _grin_ and wonder if he could get his fellow Autobots to act at least somewhat similar. It was an amusing thought, and it entertained his bored mind.

Ah, but that should have been _anyone's_ first warning sign. A bored Jazz was never a _safe_ Jazz. A motto Prowl could attest to on a daily basis.

But still. It was entertaining, thinking of how a very specific Autobot would react if he would, say, leave a puppy in his office. Perhaps on his desk?

It amused the saboteur so much, he even walked his holoform over to the window and peeked in at all the baby animals. Just to see, he assured himself, as Jazz had no intention to actually go through with his plan.

At least, not at first.

Jazz wandered inside after only being able to view the puppies. From what he had seen of this world, they were not the only pet offered, and he wanted to see more.

This was the first step in the snowballing events that followed shortly after. Events that would bring a new secret to light; a secret that had been long kept in the dark and did not wish to come to the surface. But it would have no choice, and there was no way to stop the dread that was to come.

The brunette, dreadlock haired holoform wandered through the aisles. Past the birds, the rodents, the fish, the bigger dogs, the full grown cats- taking it all in as he did so. He walked with his hands in his pockets and a slump in his posture, an easy going grin on his face as he examined the different pet options and mused over the pros and cons of having each and every one.

Things seemed perfectly normal; until he passed the kittens. At first, he wasn't sure what it was he had seen. So, Jazz stopped, backed up slowly, and leaned down to examine them.

It was a white and black litter; and one in particular had caught his attention.

Mainly white with black carefully covering parts and pieces of him, the little male kitten was sitting to the side, watching his siblings romp and play with a look of stern disapproval. It mimicked someone Jazz knew very well. From looks down to the attitude.

It was a _Prowl_ kitten.

And with that, an idea took root in Jazz's head. A plan so interesting and devious, it promised to take care of his problem with boredom for _quite_ a while. A wide, terrifying grin wound its way onto his face.

One hour later, Jazz was driving back to base, his new pal in the passenger seat, buckled in and giving him an almost angry look. Its brow was furrowed, eyes wide as it glared, and its mouth was pulled into a firm frown. Like usual, however, Jazz appeared unaffected by such a fierce look. In fact, it just encouraged the grin that had already taken over his face. Now, it grew, to the point where it could not grow anymore. This was simply too perfect. It matched his Prowler perfectly. He could remember when he first met Prowl.

He had looked just as angry at Jazz every time he saw the troublemaker.

Jazz chuckled in remembrance. The kitten continued to scowl.

"Na'h then… what do we call ya'?" Jazz mused, turning into another lane, "We can't jus' keep callin' ya' 'kitten'. Though ah suppose we could call ya' fluffy aft or somethin'." his visor flashed with amusement and the furry ball next to him let out an unimpressed noise deep in its chest, almost as though it could understand him.

Though, Jazz mused, with as much as he had seen over the course of so many vorns, he would not be surprised in the least if that was the case.

"Alrigh' then. Clearly no' th' crowd's favorite." Jazz hummed as he effortlessly maneuvered around several vehicles in a manner that may or may not have been just a little bit illegal.

Almost as though it knew this- though the likelihood of that was incredibly low- the kitten made a rough, _adorable_ growling noise deep in its chest and glared ever more intently at Jazz.

"Well, tha's th' nail in the coffin then, isn't it?" The saboteur let out a little laugh, "Prowler Jr. it is then!" The kitten did not dignify that with a response.

Miles away, Prowl's ventilation acted up and he sneezed violently, nearly bashing his knees against his desk. Bewildered, he made a mental note to watch and see if it happened again- he didn't exactly fancy going to Ratchet.

If only he knew of the terror currently hurtling his way via an incredibly mischievous silver Autobot.

XxX

Jazz cautiously peeked around a corner, hiding Prowler Jr. in his hand against his chest plates. Animals were not exactly allowed on base premises; hence why Hound's 'collection' was out in a separate building a short ways into the forest. But he needn't have bothered being so cautious. Anyone who so much as glanced his way spotted the dangerous grin on his face and beat it faster than the Terror Twins fleeing from an enraged Ratchet on a bad day.

No one wanted to deal with that.

Even Optimus, who came walking down the hall with a data pad in hand, turned on his heel and headed back the way he came after spotting Jazz's expression. Perhaps, the leader of the Autobots mused, he would lock himself in his office for today and just work on reports. Yes, that sounded much safer than being anywhere near Jazz at the moment.

Excited and pleased with his apparent 'good fortune', Jazz made his way down the base's halls with just a bit more speed. It wasn't long until he came to his destination. Stopping and crouching low, Jazz carefully pressed his head against the door, making certain his right audio receptor was right up against the metal. He waited. Ten seconds. Then thirty. Then a full minute. No sound. It seemed that no one was home.

Jazz did his best not to cackle aloud.

Standing again, the saboteur tapped the control panel and giddily watched the door slide open smoothly with little to no sound. He stepped into an empty office, the door shutting behind him, and strained his hearing. No, Prowl didn't seem to be in the back room either. Must be in another one of those stupid meetings with the humans, Jazz mused, and made his way over to Prowl's desk. It was not a surprise that the second in command had not locked his office door. He often left it unlocked and opened to anyone in case they had a report to file or a problem and had to leave him a note.

While this often left his office open to pranking, Prowl had yet to change his stance on whether his door should be locked or not.

Something Jazz hoped wouldn't change. It made this so much easier. Not that it would take much for him to get passed a locked door, mind you; it was just tedious.

Checking around one more time for any sign of Prowl returning shortly and finding none, Jazz slipped around the desk, knelt, and set Prowler Jr. down on the desk chair. He had no concerns with Prowl accidentally sitting on the small animal, as Prowl now checked his seat before sitting after that one _incident_ with the twins.

The tiny kitten blinked up at him sleepily from its spot in the middle of the huge chair's cushion, before yawning and settling in, going back to sleep within moments.

Everything was in place. Smirking to himself, Jazz quickly leaped up and easily pulled himself up through a loose panel in the ceiling, where he could watch. It was a little spot Prowl had yet to find, and Jazz was delighted he had a front row seat to what was clearly going to be the _cutest_ thing to happen on base in a very long time. And _oh_ was he going to record it for later!

With that last thought in mind, Jazz settled in to wait, with all the patience of a trained monk.

XxX

Prowl marched his way down the base hall, anger and irritation raw in his chest. The nerve of the humans! Talking to them was like trying to negotiate with a brick wall. It just wasn't happening. Bots and soldiers alike saw him coming and instantly plastered themselves to the walls so as to not be in his way. Much like Jazz, no one wanted to deal with Prowl when he was in a certain mood.

It just wasn't safe for anyone but _maybe_ the Prime. And even then, it was iffy at best.

Fully intending to sit down and fill out some reports so at least _something_ productive got done that day, Prowl made his way into his office with less than hidden agitation. Not that you could necessarily see it. Prowl was one of those people that could easily hide what he was feeling if you were to simply look at him. No, this was one of those things that you _felt._ Instead of looking angry, Prowl carried a storm around him like a fierce cloak.

That storm only intensified as Prowl instantly realized that someone had been in his office while he was gone. While this wasn't normally an issue, the thought of having to deal with extra reports or someone being an idiot- and Primus above _help them_ if it was the twins!- made him want to _strangle_ someone.

That irritation drained away once he realized that there was no compiled report or complaint on his desk, and as far as Prowl could see, there was no evidence of a prank waiting to be sprung. So, now the question remained- who had been here, and why?

It would be answered very soon, as he made his way around his desk, wondering if something was waiting for him inside his desk- or, heaven forbid- on his chair.

He had no idea how hard he had struck the nail on the head with that last thought.

Rounding around the corner of his desk, Prowl froze in place as his gaze connected with a pair of incredibly sharp, adorably angry, slitted eyes. For a moment, he wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. Then as it set in, he cautiously looked around him. Surely, this was a prank, Prowl thought. Yes, a prank, waiting to be sprang on him. But this didn't seem like one of the twins' pranks. It was too… pure. The small kitten in his seat glared at him with a fierce disappointment, but seemed to hold no ill will. Surely, if this was the work of the terror twins, there would be some form of off set; something to give it all away.

No, this was far too innocent.

Prowl was confused. Prowl _hated_ being confused.

He narrowed his eyes back at the small creature that glared at him, daring it to give up its secrets. The black and white kit mewed irritatedly, as though asking ' _what_?' before scoffing. Prowl stiffened, trying to resist, but his walls were already crumbling. Finding this new person to be incredibly boring, the kitten rolled his eyes and laid down, curling up and seeming content to doze off. Prowl lost the battle.

His spark melted, his posture slumped, and he crooned whilst scooping the tiny fuzzball up into his arms, cuddling it near his chest.

The kitten purred at the warmth that came with Prowl's touch, cuddling up against the large Cybertronian without a hint of fear.

After a moment of oohing and awing over the adorable creature, the tactician froze. Who had left this kitten here, on his chair? There was no way the small kit had found his way into the base, into his office, and then onto his chair. It was simply too much to be a coincidence. The chair was far too high for one, and he wasn't even going to _go into_ what _Red Alert_ had done with the security to keep such things out.

Chest tightening with slight apprehension and dread filling his stomach, Prowl cautiously looked around, checking to see if the culprit was still in his office, hiding. But that was silly, because he most certainly would have seen them if they were.

Nerves were getting the better of him.

Because, you see, Prowl had a secret. A secret he didn't want anyone to know; because he was certain it would _ruin_ him. A secret not even Jazz was aware of. Suspected, _maybe_ , but nothing concrete. Nothing solid. And Prowl loathed the day he found out, because he _knew_ he would _never_ live it down. Chances were, he would use it against Prowl every chance he could; like blackmail, perhaps.

The secret? Well, it was as simple as it was _terrible_. You see, Prowl had a weakness. A weakness he could not afford to show anyone.

Prowl had a soft spot for anything _**cute**_.

Terrified of this secret being discovered, the tactician took off in a scurry, heading straight for his quarters, which were located in the back, just behind his desk. He shot through the sliding door, and into the safety of his own four walls. The door slid shut and locked behind him, promising security and solitude with his new companion, something Prowl was very grateful for. He had no idea he was leaving behind a merrily amused, and interested Jazz.

Said silver bot began crawling along the top of the ceiling, before settling back in, this time right over Prowl's room. The perfect spot for spying, with an even more perfect view. From here, he could see his lover moving around his room with the kitten without any obstructions.

Within his room, Prowl moved back and forth restlessly, cradling his new bundle of joy to his spark, the warmest part of his chest. The kitten was like a small lawn mower, with how loudly it was purring its joy. As far as the tactician could tell, he was stuck in a corner, between a rock and a hard place.

Pets weren't allowed on base, Prowl knew for a fact that there were exactly thirteen rules concerning animals- seven of those concerning pets in specific; and he knew them by heart. If you were to ask anyone on base, they were all convinced he had it hardwired directly into his processor and made it a point to constantly remind everyone.

Prowl had never resented rules before now.

There weren't any loopholes, and he knew not even the terror twins' themselves could find one. He had been the one to write the rules, after all, and he was usually very careful to prevent such faults. Which led to him cursing himself angrily as he thought over how he could possibly get away with keeping the tiny kit.

Prowl _loathed_ the thought of handing the kitten back over to the humans. When it came to animals, he found they often times could not be trusted. A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless. How could he be certain that they would take care of the small, defenseless creature?

He simply couldn't. Not in a good sense of mind and spark, in any case.

So that left him with what Prowl felt was his only option. To hide the poor darling the best he could, and keep it with him. It wasn't often that Prowl broke his own rules, or even tried to sidestep around them and find loopholes- but it did happen. And this would be one of those times, it seemed.

A fact he was far from proud of. There was nothing Prowl hated more than broken rules, but there was little he could do about it, from what he could see. The next few days were certain to be interesting, that was for sure.

And Jazz could not have been more pleased with the outcome.

XxX

Prowl walked with purpose in his step. Perhaps, if he acted normal, and didn't show any signs of what was going on; no one would stop him to ask him where he was going or what he was doing. He wasn't sure what response he would give. Prowl knew full well he was a terrible actor outside of being able to keep a stony face through anything.

It was a talent he was quite proud of, as it made even his mate nervous.

His poker face was legendary. Even though he wasn't allowed to play anymore.

The tactician had just come back from a shopping trip, and had purchased everything he needed to care for the small kitten that had been inexplicably, and without explanation, dropped into his care. Prowl was quite proud of his handiwork; but that pride was quickly replaced with horror and a sinking feeling of dread. There was Jazz. Leaning against the wall, grinning, and seeming to be waiting for him.

Prowl was a awful, _terrible_ actor.

Not to mention the fact that there was nothing he could hide from a curiously inclined Jazz.

Already foreseeing the trouble heading his way, Prowl stepped to the side and attempted to simply walk past the saboteur. Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy to avoid Jazz. Amusement and excitement flashed through the silver Autobot's visor, and he stepped to the side, matching Prowl's movement and mirroring it perfectly. The result had him nearly touching chests with his mate.

Like all of the times Jazz had gotten close in public, Prowl's cheeks took on a light blue hue. Already, he could feel his spark reacting, arching and reaching out, tempting him with something that did _not_ belong in a professional environment.

At all.

"Jazz." The tactician mentally scrambled to keep himself from slipping. If Jazz found out; who knew _what_ deviousness he would do with Prowl's weakness! And Primus _forbid_ the terror twins ever found out!

"Prowl." Jazz matched Prowl's tone perfectly, despite his accent, but his grin only widened, and his eyebrows raised higher, "What'cha doin', tryin'a ignore me like tha'?" the saboteur crossed his arms. Prowl's lips tightened together into a flat line,

"I was not 'trying to ignore' you." he denied. Jazz raised an eyebrow above the other in an 'oh?' expression.

"I was simply moving out of your way." Prowl informed him, just barely managing to keep his poker face. But he could feel the sweat sliding down the back of his neck- despite the fact that Cybertronian's _couldn't_ and _didn't_ sweat. He was a terrible actor when he was trying to actively keep something hidden.

Specifically from Jazz.

Too bad Jazz was the one he was trying to keep this hidden from.

Luckily for Prowl, Jazz conceded and let him win this one. Instead, he twisted around so that he was now at Prow's side, instead of blocking him. Relieved, the tactician was quick to start walking again, and his mate was quick to keep pace with him.

"So where've ya' been, Prowler?" The nickname, as always, sent a flush of heat down his spinal support, but Prowl didn't let it show.

"Around." He tried to keep his answer vague. Jazz's grin widened further, if possible,

"Ah' see." The third in command's response sounded sly. Instantly, Prowl's inner alarms started going off in red alert mode, and his mental sweat increased tenfold.

"I have somewhere to be." Quick and sharp with his response, Prowl took off in a speedy power-walk that wasn't _quite_ a run, and so it wasn't _quite_ breaking the rule of 'no running in the halls'.

Oh who was he kidding? He was fucking _sprinting_ that shit.

XxX

Safe within the confines of his own quarters- soon to be Jazz's, as well; they had discussed moving in together, though that would take time- Prowl carefully set up the items he had bought for his new pet. Food and water bowls, which he filled, kitten food, a pet bed, a scratching post, a few toys, and a litter box. Which he also filled.

Said kitten looked back over it's shoulder at him from where it was sharpening its claws on his armchair with an angry, disappointed look. It looked high dissatisfied. To which, Prowl simply raised an eyebrow and responded,

"Don't look at me like that. We both know that cat litter is much more sanitary than going on the floor. And stop ripping up my armchair! That was expensive!" His scolding got a narrow eyed look before the animal pulled its paws away, and settled down on the ground- sitting with a stern expression on its face.

Prowl sighed, and wondered how on _earth_ he was going to keep this from Jazz. Especially since he was going to be _moving in_ soon. There was just no way! Not to mention… it wasn't like he could revise the rules! He'd made too much of a point in the last meeting about it. He would seem like a hypocrite!

The thought had him rubbing his face with an irritated sigh. Damn him and his logical-ness.

...Was that even a word?

The rest of the day continued without incident. The _next_ day, however, proved to be quite the surprise.

It was Prowl's day off. And so, he had settled in his office chair, with the kitten on the desk, and tried to bond with it. The kitten seemed to need more urging to play, but once he began, he would focus on the cat toy with complete and utter seriousness; brow furrowed and mouth in a stern line. The sight brought a grin to Prowl's face, and he found himself actually _enjoying_ his time off, instead of trying to get extra work done that didn't _need_ done for another three months.

Prowl still refused to accept the fact that he **might** be a workaholic. Nope, not him. Prime? Maybe. Ratchet? For certain. But him? No.

Many hours had passed, and Prowl had lost all track of time. And then the door clicked and slid open. Horrified, the tactician stared up with wide optics as Jazz came strolling in.

 _He had forgotten to lock the door_. HOW had he forgotten to lock his door?

"Hey Prowler, ah' brought a movie ya' might li-iiiiii….?" The statement trailed off into a question as Jazz seemed to stare at his mate, who was cradling a kitten between his hands on the desk, seemingly frozen in place. "Ah' see yer enjoyin' th' present ah' got for ya'." Jazz grinned, and Prowl snapped out of his horrified shock.

" _You_ got me this?" He glared, "Jazz! You **know** pets aren't allowed on base!"  
"Eas'eh! Chill, Prowler." Jazz's grin widened, and he seemed unfazed by Prowl's anger, "Ya' could've gotten rid of 'im. But'cha didn'." He shrugged, "Beh'sides, aren't'cha enjoyin' 'is compan'eh?"

"..."

"Well?"

"I… might be." Prowl scowled, "That's besides the point, Jazz! You brought it on base in the first place!"

"Bu' 'e's not a pet." Jazz looked like he was having the time of his life.

That didn't surprise Prowl. Nothing gave Jazz quite the amount of satisfaction that arguing with Prowl gave. Not even assassinating Decepticons in ironic ways.

Prowl leaned his face against his hand, which supported its weight thanks to how his elbow was propped on top of his desk.

"What is he, then?" he raised an eyebrow, challenging Jazz.

Jazz didn't disappoint, "'E's a companion."

The tactician groaned, "Jazz, the cat-"

"Prowler Jr." Jazz had a shit eating grin plastered across his face at that point,

"What?" Prowl fixated him with a confused look,

"'Is name is Prowler Jr."

"Wh…" He shook his head, " _Why_?"  
"Cause 'e looks just like ya'! Acts like ya' too." Jazz's grinned just a little wider before frowning, "Seriously though, Prowl, what'cha worried abou', huh? Who's gonna frag with th' Prowler?" he leaned on the front of the tactician's desk, looking at him from over the top of his visor.

Prowl leaned back in his seat, looking at him in disbelief, "It's against the _rules_ Jazz!"

"So? New information came ta' light. Ya' found tha' it's good fer yer mental state. Revise the rules." Jazz shrugged, and Prowl narrowed his optics,

"That will take _time_ , Jazz." The second in command rubbed his faceplates tiredly, Jazz had a point though- if he spun it that way, he could revise the rule, "What do I do with it in the _meantime_?"

"Call it an experiment." Jazz was dead serious,

"What?" Prowl frowned at him in confusion- Jazz was rarely ever serious,

"Say yer investigatin' that rule. That yer runnin' an experiment. S'not tha' far fetched ya' know. Humans do it all th' time."

Prowl stared at him.

"Wha' is it?" Jazz shifted, looking uncomfortable. Prowl was one of the very few beings who could have that effect on him.

"Your intelligence is incredibly attractive." The tactician informed him, and Jazz stared for a moment before leaning in over his desk, getting closer to his face with a grin.

"Oh really?" He purred,

"Really." Prowl smirked.

Prowler Jr. meowed with distaste, bringing a snort of amusement from Prowl and a cackle from Jazz,

"Ah' think we jus' got told, Prowler!"

"So it seems."

"'Ey Prowl?"

"Yes Jazz?"

"Do what'cha want. Not wha' the rules tell ya' to. An' don' let anyone keep ya' from tha'. Not Prime, not the humans, and not any o' the other Autobots." Jazz informed him seriously.

"...I will… keep that in mind." Prowl told him softly.

XxX

Galloway was at the end of his rope. He had been hearing stories about the Autobot known as _Prowl_ all day. How he had walked down the halls with a _cat_ on his shoulder- who eyewitnesses had gushed over, as it had meowed at everything with a sternness that matched its owner- and how said cat had sat on his desk and watched everyone that came into said Autobot's office. Really, enough was enough!

Animals were _not_ allowed on base, after all.

Galloway had felt so strongly about this that he had even called a meeting together. Now, he paced across the catwalk that was poised over the expanse of the main hanger. He could oversee everything from here, and it gave him a height advantage, giving him a rush of power. One by one, Autobots filtered in. The medic, the Prime, the _Prowl_ , a small silver one, and the shrink one. He didn't bother to really remember their names. Why should he?

There was just no point. They were beneath him, after all. _He_ worked for the government, _he_ was the top dog.

"What is it, Director Galloway? Why have you called this meeting?" The Prime rumbled, getting things started. One could detect the frayed nerves and slight irritation just hidden under the polite and wise tone- if that one had brain cells. Which Galloway did not.

" _That_! That has to go." The Director pointed at the kitten which was sitting on Prowl's shoulder, tail laid over its front paws. It bared its teeth at the human and hissed quietly, clearly displeased.

"Animals are _not_ allowed on base, this is a clear violation-"

"Prowl's jus' runnin' an experiment. Chill." Jazz pretended to yawn, clearly bored with the meeting already,

"That is no excuse! Under no circumstances-!"

"Whatev'ah. It's one o' those counselin' animals then. An emotional support animal." Jazz rolled his optics from behind his visor, and Prowl did his best not to twitch. A chuckle hiding just under his poker face.

Jazz had _no_ fear about butting heads with _anyone_. Prowl wouldn't be surprised if his mate argued with _Unicron_ or _Primus_ about dying when the time came.

"You need a prescription from a mental health care physician for one of those!"' Galloway was practically foaming at the mouth, desperate to get someone for _something_.

"Alrigh' then. 'Ey, Smokescreen? Can ah' ask a favor?"

"One step ahead of you, Jazz." Smokescreen chuckled, scribbling something out on a datapad, "Alright, here you go Prowl." The shrink then stuck the datapad into Prowl's open servo.

There was dead silence as the second in command let himself smirk a tiny bit, as he turned the pad so that Galloway could see. The Director's face slowly turned purple in response.

Prowler Jr. let out a terrifying, defiant cackle.


End file.
